


Blake's 7 Cracky Gen Compilation

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Animal Transformation, Compilation What Compilation, Crack, Gen, Humor, Mild Innuendo, Post Gauda Prime, Puns & Word Play, Series Spoilers, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 57
Words: 12,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, no summary will adequately prepare you for this overflowing basket of crackiness. Expect the unexpected. Twists and turns and word play. Characters having fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Sweet Love Story

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Avon looked down and smiled. Smooth as satin, Zulu warrior brown, so cool at first touch, then warming as his tongue caressed the object of his desire. He had to hide his lust behind locked doors; he was far too old to make such a fool of himself, but he didn't care.

He breathed in sharply as he forced his way in through reluctantly yielding tenderness, gazing mesmerized at the delicate wrinkling patterns formed by the pressure of his instrument.

He closed his eyes in ecstasy. Yes, it was worth it, worth every minute he had sneaked away to prepare for this, worth every sacrifice, and all the mockery he knew he'd let himself in for if Tarrant or Vila discovered his weakness. He should have programmed Scorpio's food processors for gourmet chocolate ice cream ages ago.


	2. A Switch in Time

Jenna said, "Avon, remember when Zen showed us those illusions? I was thinking... It'd be nice to have a holo of my mother."

Avon replied, "I wouldn't mind having one of my brother. I'll see what I can do."

A few days later, Avon produced a pair of holo-cubes. Avon looked at Jenna's long-nosed, dark-haired mother. Jenna looked at Avon's tall, blond brother.

"Hmmm. You know, I was born the night the power failed in Central Hospital."

"What a coincidence." Avon gazed thoughtfully at the holos.

Vila wandered in. "Where'd you get the holos of my uncle and aunt?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was:Soap Cliché: I went with the Double Pregnancy Rule.


	3. Animal Nature

Zen said, "Information. Transformation is complete." Jenna looked up from the pilot's position. Avon, Blake and Vila had disappeared; in their stead stood three Earth animals. Before she could reach them the animals scattered. The kitten somehow managed to climb up on top of Zen and clung there, spitting and hissing. The puppy ran underneath a console and crouched, wetting the floor as it whined. The piglet squealed, raced between her legs and ran off the flight deck.

"ZEN! What did you do!"

"It was necessary to reset the somatic envelopes in congruence with psychological profiles as a test of the suitability of the crew for this vessel," Zen informed her. 

Cally came rushing in, with the piglet held in her arms.

"Well, you can just turn them back!" Jenna demanded.

"To complete the test, it is necessary for the remaining crew to correctly identify the transformed members."

"I am beginning to agree with Avon, Zen is altogether too free-willed," Cally said as she put down the squirming piglet, which grunted and began trying to root around on the deck, bruising its nose and squealing in indignation.

"Avon must be the cat, Blake's the dog and Vila's the pig," Jenna declared.

Zen was silent.

"Well?"

"Knowledge must be earned, it cannot be given. If I am given incorrect information the results will be negative. Do you wish me to proceed given the current parameters?"

"Wait!" Cally said, "What do you mean by negative?"

"Incorrect transformation will result in immediate demise of the subjects."

"No, don't try it yet!" Jenna said hastily. She looked at Cally. 

"We'll ask Orac."

Gan came onto the flight deck. "Ask Orac what?" He stopped and blinked. "Jenna. Cally. Why are Blake and the others animals?" He picked up the pig and scratched behind its ears. "Hello, Avon."

Cally and Jenna looked at each other, and then at Gan. "You can tell who they are?" Cally asked.

"Are you sure?" Jenna asked.

Gan blinked slowly. "Why, of course. All you've got to do is look at their eyes." He pointed to the cat. "That's Blake. And the puppy is Vila."

"Correct," Zen said. 

Blake yelled and fell off Zen. Vila yelped and crawled out from under the console. Avon snarled and pushed away from Gan's arms.

Gan rubbed his nose. "Well, anyway, I just came up to say that lunch is ready." He looked apologetically at Avon. "I made ham sandwiches."


	4. Bonded

"Bonding was your idea, so stop fighting it."

"I hadn't imagined the consequences."

"Do you really hate the closeness that much?" Blake sounded wistful.

Avon reconsidered the retort that sprang to mind. Prodding Blake verbally was his favorite stress reliever, but under the circumstances it would be impossible for either of them to retreat without causing great pain.

Avon let Blake take more of his weight. Blake was strong enough to support the two of them. Avon was tired of fighting the inevitable.

Then Jenna poured nail varnish remover over them, dissolving the superglue welding them to the cracked console.


	5. Christmas Present

Servalan poised at the entrance to the tracking gallery. Her eyes passed swiftly over her troopers standing at respectful attention, helmets off, faces shiny with tension, then focused on the tumbled pile of bodies dressed in rebel motley. The garish light had been softened, the alarms silenced. It was time for her appearance, which was being transmitted live to the Federation Council.

"It really is a pity," she said with an insincere smile, as she glided in to stand by the centerpiece of her holiday arrangement. "In ancient days, this was the time for giving, Avon, but I do believe your _good_ friend Blake didn't care for your gifts at all." The troops shifted restlessly and Servalan decided a dramatic gesture was in order.

"Thus end all who oppose the Federation!" she said, and balanced on one stiletto heel as she kicked Avon's corpse in an area guaranteed to make her male troops even more wary of offending her than they already were.

She shrieked in sudden, blinding pain, lashed out with her other foot in furious reaction, catching Blake's body in the equivalent area and immediately regretted the impulse as she now had incredible agony shooting up from both of her great toes. She collapsed against the nearest trooper. "Search them!" she ordered and leaned heavily on the man, trying to keep her weight, and her mind, off her toes.

"Commissioner Sleer! They are androids, all of them!" the squad-leader reported nervously. "All except for your agent, Arlen, that is."

"No! It can't be, I won't be cheated this way!" Servalan glanced down at the fixed grin on the face of the Avon-android, and saw within its torn-open tunic exposing the metal frame of its body, the glint of Orac's key. "Orac! Find me that computer!" she screamed and her troops scattered to obey, without knowing what they were searching for.

Servalan sat at the tracking gallery, fuming at the fake corpse of some rebel woman who also seemed to be grinning at her. All of them were. She considered ordering her troops to smash the androids' faces, but refrained, as the things _might_ still have some value.

"Commissioner!" The squad-leader saluted and gestured one of his men forward. "Is this it?" he asked, pointing at the large plastic case the man held.

"It is, indeed," Servalan purred and directed Orac be placed on the console in front of her. She tapped the key against it for a moment, considering. No, she couldn't wait to find out if this was another copy. She hesitated - the grin on Avon's android still unnerved her. Possibly it was a booby trap? Well, _she_ was no one's booby. Imperiously she waved to the squad-leader. "You shall have the honor," she said. "Place the key there!"

The man obeyed. Avon's voice emerged. "Greetings and salutations, Ex-President Servalan. I hope you get just what you deserve." 

"It's an audio-player!" Servalan snarled, and threw the plastic casing to the floor.

"Erm." The squad-leader looked at Servalan. "He called you Servalan."

"A slip of the tongue," Servalan said. "Do _I_ remotely resemble that megalomaniac?" she said, spreading her arms wide.

"Now that you mention it..."

"Pity about this, too," Servalan said, looking into the live pickup on the vid-camera, as she pressed the remote control she had palmed before she spread her arms. The troopers glowed red, screamed for a few seconds and then collapsed.

Servalan sighed and broke off the heels on both her shoes. "And it's _especially_ a pity about _this_ \- they were designer shoes," she said, putting the heels in one of her hidden weapons' pockets. She limped over to Avon's android, shoved 'Blake's' body off of it and picked up 'Avon's' legs and began dragging it. She sighed again. It was a long way to the pursuit ship, but she would need the androids for her next identity.

Something outside the military, for the moment. Sara's Rebel Wax Museum? Oh, well, a woman's got to make a living.


	6. Paper Giraffes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A challenge prompt: Write a story/scene pertaining to the prompt in fifty-five words or less, not including the title. An exercise for word economy and placement, and expanding vocabulary. The prompt is writing or anything related to writing, communication, recording, marking, transmitting, etc.
> 
> It coincided with my involvement in the [ One Million Giraffes project](http://www.onemilliongiraffes.com/%22) so most of my responses included giraffes. In case that link dies, the project was a friendly wager that one million handmade giraffes couldn't be collected over the internet. It took 440 days. I still have a few of mine. Cut paper and candy wrapper sculptures and scribbly drawings... somewhere... I'm not very organized.
> 
> *Note: I considered the graph giraffes cheating- some people drew hundreds of 'h's in teeny tiny graph paper boxes. *humph* None of MY giraffes were that quick.

**Looks good on Paper**

"But Blake, millions will die!" Cally protested.

"I don't have any choice." Blake pulled out his 'Federation Dungeonmaster Rulebook'. " _Territories Operating under the Shadow of Oppression shall be considered Enemy Territories and Allowed No Mercy_."

"That's it for my battalion of Class Five Delta troopers, then," Vila said glumly.

Avon said, "My hackers are deserting."

 

**Big Project, Small Universe**

"That's graph paper, not giraffe paper."

"You should have told me earlier, Avon!" Vila shook his cramping fingers. "I've been drawing in all the little giraffes for hours!"

"You were awake throughout your entire watch? Amazing."

Vila grinned and told Orac to send a scan of his 1,000 giraffes to the Delta Billion Giraffe Project.

 

**The Long and the Short of it**

Avon gingerly laid down the dead mouse, noting on the Official Aquatar Failure Form, "25 gramme test subject. Dead on arrival." 

On to the next: "1300 kilogram test subject. Dead on arrival."

As Avon loaded the giraffe onto the forklift, he decided it was time for a career move to banking. Paperwork was much cleaner.

 

**Compulsive Reader**

If you appear to be reading, non-readers avoid you like the plague. On the _London_ it's the only way to get anything resembling privacy.  
So here I sit, perusing a scrap of paper dropped by a guard outside the holding cell. _"Why does a giraffe have a long neck?"_  
What the hell is a giraffe?


	7. Compatibility Sweats Trials  (random word prompt)

**To be expected**

"I sweats regular!" the space rat declared, but Dr. Plaxton refused to let him move the star-drive for the next set of trials. She also said there was no compatibility between the drive and a space-chopper.

Atlan wasn't terribly surprised when he heard later that there'd been a blow-up between her and the rebels she'd run off with. "She never did make an effort to get along with people," he said philosophically.

 

**The Expert Touch**

Avon inserts a replacement part, makes an adjustment and winces at the resulting shower of sparks. 

"Not again." Tarrant peers under the console, face pink and shiny. "Compatibility problem?"

"How did you guess?" Avon sweats even more now that Tarrant's cutting off what little air-flow there is. 

Tarrant grunts and moves back to check Scorpio's life-support indicators. "That makes six trials so far. You're losing your touch."

Avon jabs viciously into the system at random with his laser probe.

Cool air suddenly flows from the ventilators. "That did it!"

Avon smiles at his probe. "It only wanted a little encouragement."


	8. Rest Stop

Blake looked at his crew, lying about the infirmary in varied attitudes of less than robust health. "What happened?"

Jenna scowled at Cally through a puffed lip. Cally glared back through a black eye. "We had a irreconcilable difference of opinion," Cally said finally.

"Cat-fight. Over you." Avon rolled his eyes. "Neither of them has any taste." Avon ducked the pillow Jenna threw at him, and then he groaned, clutching his stomach.

"And were you in the battle, too?"

Avon's eyes widened. "In your dreams. I discovered I'm lactose-intolerant."

"Hah," Vila said. "After your sixth Knickerbocker Glory, you discovered that leather only stretches so far." It was Vila's turn to duck a thrown pillow and moan, clutching his arse.

Blake eyed Vila. "And how did you get your... no, don't tell me, you stumbled into the dominatrix sector in the bordello."

Vila was hotly indignant. "I never _stumble_ into anything in a bordello! I got zapped with a hot seat while playing speed chess with a midget in metallic face-paint for ten million credits."

There was a moment of awed silence. Blake made an imaginary mark in the air with his forefinger. "Vila wins this round of 'Liar's Shore Leave."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Actually, this is only a slightly exaggerated description of events in the episode Gambit.


	9. Coma Kharma Chameleon

"Avon? I know you can hear me." Blake sat next to Avon's bed and picked up Avon's hand. "The doctors say you recovered from the stun hours ago. I'm not dead, Avon. All my people wear force vests. And I made sure that Federation agent had a stun weapon. All your people are alive. They're here. They care about you, too."

Avon's cool fingers twitched. Blake smiled and nodded to Vila, who was fidgeting nearby, along with the other Scorpio crew. 

"It's me, Avon," Vila said. 

Dayna glared at him. "That's a stupid thing to say! You'll make him think he's back in the tracking gallery."

Tarrant rolled his eyes. "Well, if he didn't then, he will now."

Soolin came over to Avon, and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "We've talked it over, and we all realize what a strain you've been under."

Vila said, "About Malodaar... I know you must have felt terrible about that. I should have been more understanding."

Blake cleared his throat. "What we're saying is that you're important to us, Avon. We couldn't do without you."

Avon opened his eyes. "Damn straight you couldn't."

Blake looked at Avon. "Someone get me a gun."


	10. Going Batty

"Oh, no!" Jenna swatted at the bat on Blake's arm.

"What?" Blake woke up, startled. "Travis?"

"No, there was a bat on your arm, biting you!"

Blake looked at the small wound. "Only a scratch. That wasn't worth waking me."

"Well, fine, if you _like_ having creatures sucking your life-blood!"

"Compared to Avon's sniping, that was nothing."

Jenna nodded. "At least it wasn't trying to get into my hair."

"Bats do that?" Blake sat up straight.

"I've heard they do." Jenna yawned. 

Blake put his hands over his head and looked around. "I think I'll stand watch until dawn, Jenna."


	11. High Caliber

Tarrant, Vila and Dayna sat on the flight deck, relieved that they'd escaped a potentially lethal situation once again.

"I want my dinner, " Vila said grumpily as he checked the monitor yet again. "It's not even supposed to be my watch!"

"Avon and Cally need the rest," Dayna said from her position, giving Vila a glance.

"Why? They slept through the whole thing." Vila prodded a button irritably. "I save the day, and my reward is an extra shift! It's not fair."

"Life is frequently unfair," Tarrant pointed out. He exchanged an amused glance with Dayna, but then perked up when he saw something else in her smile. "On second thought, Vila, as the hero of the hour, you do deserve a reward. Go have your dinner and take the rest of the watch off. Dayna and I have it covered."

"Yes?" Vila looked up, pleased and startled. He hadn't expected his complaining to have any result. Then he caught the looks the two young people were exchanging. "Yes," he said, resigned. "I get it. You don't have to hit me over the head." He got up. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he told Tarrant.

Tarrant grinned. "You wish."

***

Vila was in the food preparation area, cheering himself up by making his favorite meal, when he heard a soft scraping noise. He looked up. Avon was standing in the doorway. His expression looked odd. Well... odder than normal.

"Oh, hello, Avon. I thought you were asleep. Well, whatever you do, don't go on the flight deck." He rolled his eyes. "Young love in bloom, and all that."

"Brains?" Avon took a step forward.

"Eh? Well, it's Dayna and Tarrant, so not a whole lot of forethought... yeh, I guess someone ought to check that they're taking precautions. But not ME!"

Cally came shuffling up beside Avon, making a shush, shush, shush, noise, which Vila belated realized was because she was pushing her feet along the deck instead of lifting them; the same as Avon must have done. "Hey, you two look really dead. Why don't you go back and rest some more. Or you could share some of my dinner, if you like?"

Cally looked at Vila and then at Avon. "Brains?"

Vila winced. "That's not a funny joke. You know I'm vegetarian."

Avon went past Vila and picked up a double-edge serrated electronic bread knife. "No brains." He left the compartment, and Cally followed him.

Vila shook his head. There was a _Bing_ and he turned to take his supper out of the oven. He looked down the corridor to see if perhaps the delicious smell would draw them back. "Hey! You're not going to the flight deck, are you? I mean..." He ran after Avon and Cally, still carrying the tureen.

"BRAINS!" Avon and Cally shouted and shuffled really fast onto the flight deck. Dayna and Tarrant sprang apart, clothing flying in various directions.

"Avon! What the hell!" Tarrant tried to stand gallantly in front of Dayna, but she pushed him aside to stand next to him. 

"You wouldn't satisfy my curiosity, Avon, so ..." Dayna suddenly gulped and really looked at Avon and Cally. "Ah. You aren't... yourselves... are you."

"BRAINS!"

Vila yelped in panic as he saw Avon turn on the knife and aim it at Tarrant's throat. "NO!" Vila threw the tureen and the hot contents splattered both Avon and Cally.

"Brains?" Cally looked down at the mess on the deck, and fell to her knees, grabbing chunks and gulping them down.

Avon growled and scrabbled with her for a share.

"Ah. I think, now would be a good time to go," Tarrant said as he sidled out past the feeders with Dayna and Vila ahead of him. 

Once they were clear of the flight deck, Tarrant ran to the medical unit for a can of sono vapor, and piped it into the flight deck. 

"Orac!" Dayna saw the computer where Cally had left it in the medical unit. She snapped the key in place. "Avon and Cally have gone mad! They're shouting about brains and trying to kill us! Tarrant's using sono vapor to knock them out, but what shall we do with them when they wake up?"

Orac hummed for a moment. "It is a cerebral metabolic problem caused by the Ultras' interference with them. It is easily solved by the administration of a massive dose of adrenaline derivative pi-twenty."

"But what was all the raving about brains?" Vila asked.

"Apparently they instinctively believe that ingesting brains will cure them," Orac replied.

Vila sighed. "Once again I saved the day."

"What do you mean, Vila?" Dayna asked as she turned a medical gown into an off-the-shoulder tunic, much to Vila's regret.

"That was my cauliflower and cheese they ate! Now what am I to have for dinner?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ultra decided to feed Avon to the Core because his brain tissue was of such high caliber.
> 
> I always knew Avon was a big shot...


	12. It's Your Duty

“I did it last time, Cally.”

“No, Jenna, I did.” 

“I’m not doing it again.” Jenna folded her arms. “It’s not a pilot’s job.”

“It’s not communications or demolitions, either,” Cally pointed out. 

Avon remarked, “Statistically speaking, I’ve done it nearly as often. And it's certainly not a computer-based function.”

Blake looked rebellious; obviously asking him was a dead loss.

“Zen won’t do it, and I don’t trust Orac,” Vila said. “And no one liked it when I did it!"

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Gan said. In unison, everyone shook their heads.

Blake stared and Avon capitulated. “Oh, all right, at least I won’t starch the leathers.”


	13. Joining

Vila was listening in from a safe distance after Avon co-opted Blake to help with some project or other. While Vila didn't want to be in the middle of whatever it was, he found their unguarded conversations frequently quite entertaining.

Blake's voice was calm and steady and totally resolute. 'No, Avon, you can't bolt. I don't know why you'd even want to try.'

Avon's reply was sharp. 'I can and I will the moment I find a suitable bolt-hole.' There was the sound of scraping, perhaps zippers going down? Vila listened closer, having had suspicions about them for quite some time. Then there was a fairly dull 'thump' and Vila pictured Avon's leather-covered knees hitting the deck- it hadn't been loud enough for Blake.

Blake's sigh sounded amused. 'I would be easier to give in to the inevitable now. All you need is a good screw.'

There was no reply for a few minutes, bar some very odd grunting noises from Avon, and finally Blake said, 'There's no need to hurry, Avon. Don't hurt yourself trying to impress me.'

Avon sounded out of breath and quite cross when he replied. 'All right. You win, you were right. I need a good, long screw.'

Blake chuckled. 'Here. I've been saving it for you.' There were more odd sounds of exertion from Avon. Blake said, 'I've got your nuts. Let me hold your tool.'

'I can do that for myself!' Avon snapped. There was silence for a few minutes, then a simultaneous sigh of satisfaction from both men.

***

Avon walked out of sub-control room B with Blake. 'Right, that panel will hold now.' 

Blake nodded and hefted a sack of mixed parts. 'I'll just put the fasteners back in storage.'

From his hiding place nearby Vila sighed and his shoulders slumped. 'Damn. I thought I'd won my bet with Cally."


	14. Lettuce Alone

Blake looked down at his plate in horror. 

"It's nice to have something fresh," Gan said. 

Vila nodded and spoke around a crunchy mouthful. "I'm surprised Avon had time to pick it up down on that planet, what with the Decimas revolting and all."

Avon grinned. "I didn't. I found it in Blake's cabin."

Jenna frowned, seeing Blake's disturbed expression. "You didn't have to spoil Blake's surprise. I'm sure he meant to share it with us."

"Somehow I doubt that," Avon murmured, as he poured bright red dressing over his own serving. He held the bottle out to Blake, politely offering.

Blake went even greener than the salad, held his hand over his mouth and got up so quickly he knocked over his chair as he fled the table.

"What is the matter with Blake?" Cally asked, looking worried. "Why, he didn't even touch his salad."

"I believe he already had a helping," Avon replied, turning to offer the dressing to Gan.

***

Blake returned in a few minutes, frowned at Avon, sat down and, under cover of reaching for the bread, whispered, "You bastard. You _could_ have told me you'd given Larry a trim."

Avon smiled back. "I just knew you'd appreciate me turning over a new leaf."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Decimas in the episode 'The Web' looked like humanoid iceberg lettuce to me. They were fervent rebels, although very short. Short help is better than no help!


	15. Lunacy

The dust was still settling, but Avon could see ... well, nothing he'd later describe to Vila. Orac was broken, but presumably repairable. Cally... was not.

He glanced up. The ceiling appeared reasonably stable, unlikely to give him a rational excuse for not making absolutely certain. He knelt in the rubble, noting that something sharp was cutting into his left knee, but somehow it seemed wrong to acknowledge a petty discomfort by shifting.

He touched Cally's throat. For a long moment he sat there, mind blank, head bowed, momentarily numb.

Open.

Accepting.

_aavon?_

Avon snatched his hand back. "Cally?" he whispered. Then he shook his head. There had been no breath to disturb the dust lying across her lips, no pulse, no reaction in those wide-open, staring eyes, no flow of blood from the many wounds. Imagination, that's all it was. He put his hand out to shut her eyelids. _Avon!_

"No. I am not hearing you. You are dead." Avon had a horrible suspicion that he had never awakened from Servalan's drug-induced nightmare. "You are dead!"

_Yes. But we live._

The mental voice wasn't _quite_ Cally's, Avon now realized. "Who is 'we'?" Avon asked, glancing around for a moment before acknowledging the futility of locating the origin of a sound he heard without the use of his ears.

_We are Cally. We are the people. Cally called us Moondisks._

"And you are dead, too," Avon replied. "All save the one..." He suddenly realized the shards cutting into his knee weren't plastic, or glass, or metal. He was kneeling in the fragments of Cally's pet moondisk. 

_Yes. But we live. Cally taught us, without knowing she taught us. The Mind of Auron, she called it. We are the Mind of the Moondisks. We linked with Cally, and she is here with us. We are never alone. There is nothing left on our planet but our shells, nothing left to suffer and die when your people turn our bodies into poison. We live in peace. With Cally._

"Very nice for you, I'm sure." Avon was beginning to consider an even more distasteful option- insanity.

_We need you, Avon._

"No." Avon stood up, backing away. "The dead need nothing."

_We are not dead. But Cally's 'force' is fading. Soon we _will_ die._

"There's nothing I can do for you. I'm sorry." Avon did actually regret it. The Moondisk had never threatened him. That was enough of a rarity in the universe for him to regret its passing. Not enough for him to agree to do something stupid and doing anything for dead cacti was bound to be supremely stupid.

_There is, Avon, there is!_ This time the voice sounded more like Cally, and Avon liked it even less. _Please, Avon, let us link with you._

"No. Constant companionship may be a comfort to you, but I'm not you... Cally." Avon paused. "It would drive me mad." There was no answer. Cally must have accepted reality.

_There is a risk_ Cally admitted. _But there may also be gains._

"What gain?"

_We would teach you. You would be able to link with others. Even with Blake._

Avon grinned sardonically, remembering what Servalan had said. "Over his dead body."

_Yes._ Cally sounded sad. _I am sorry, Avon._

And then Avon felt _something_ he had no words for. He fell to his knees and clutched at his head...not-pain...not- pressure... not-dizzyness and not-disorientation. 

_Blake will need us._

After a moment, Avon sighed, twitched his shoulders as if settling under a burden, and then turned from Cally's corpse, brushing the shards of Moondisk off his trouser leg. 

"Aliens." Avon said sourly as he picked up Orac and turned to the metal ladder leading out of the demolished base. "I told Blake we shouldn't trust you."

_Yes, Avon._ Cally replied, and he could hear her laughter, accompanying him, now and forever.


	16. MarySue's End

MarySue's Opal eyes flashed, shedding glittery shards all over the place, which caused Avon to miss his shot at Servalan and blast MarySue instead.

Avon looked down at her gruesomely tattered (yet still winsomely attractive, with perky smile left untouched and titian hair arrayed artistically in a fluffy, halo-like shape about her sleek, creamy shoulders) form in horror and grief, having destroyed his one true love, the only woman he'd ever met who could make Belgian waffles, navigate through the Clouds of Magellan blind-folded, fix his bad back with acupuncture, reprogram Orac through psychoanalysis to be helpful, cure Vila's alcoholism, reformat Blake's rebellion in such a simple, logical manner that the Federation was doomed to collapse any day now, discover Gan's body in suspended animation (not merely reviving him, but also removing his limiter, and getting him a job as weatherman on Fed. News Central) and yet possessed such an innocence that neither Cally, nor Jenna, nor Dayna, nor Soolin ever felt jealous of her magnificence.

He threw his gun away, and fell to his knees theatrically wailing his grief (MarySue had also taught him that even the most manly man should have a gentler side.)

Everyone was silent, respecting the enormity of the loss, not only to Avon, but to all humanity.

Then Blake opened MarySue's HelloKitty purse, looking for next of kin information, and rifled through her pink-spotted fake leopard wallet. "Um, Avon," he said after a moment. "You should see this..."

Avon lifted his tear-flooded eyes, blinked, and focused on an identity card. "What? Brown hair? Brown eyes? One hundred and seventy pounds! This can't be MarySue!"

"I'm afraid it is. I've also found the bills from the stomach-stapling, plastic surgery, contact lenses and henna rinse," Blake said, kneeling to wrap his arms about Avon's shoulders in a supportive gesture. "It's worse than that. Look at her real name."

"ARGGHHH!! She's a SLASH writer!!" Avon threw Blake's arms off, leapt to his feet and ran out of the room, screaming. The combined Liberator/ Scorpio crew followed him, shouting.

Servalan dismissed her troopers (including Travis Mark 3, 4, and 5), sighed, and looked down at the corpse. "I did warn you about Avon's bad aim, Sis, didn't I?


	17. Miscalculation

"It's just a helpless woman with a hair-curler!" Jarvik charged forward.

"Wrong on both counts." Dayna blew him away.


	18. New Year's Eve on the Liberator

Jenna idly noted the date on the decoded Earth transmission. "It's New Year's Eve," she commented. 

No one said anything for a moment, then Gan said, "It seems rather silly to celebrate it out here in space."

"We could toast the new year in?" Vila suggested, but even he didn't sound too enthusiastic.

Cally sighed and sat on the flight deck couch. "My people celebrated it with dancing." She took off her boots and rubbed her feet. 

Blake made a noncommittal noise and continued reading the information as fast as Avon and Orac could decode it. Neither of them looked up.

Vila said, hopefully, "I could rub your feet for you, Cally."

Cally smiled. "Oh, but we are all equal comrades, I could not expect you to perform such a menial task."

Vila sighed and looked mournful. Cally giggled and waved a foot at him. "I was only teasing, Vila. If you'd like to, I would appreciate it."

Jenna looked thoughtfully at Gan. "You know, piloting gives me a terrible ache in the back of my neck."

Gan smiled and came over to stand behind her. He swept her hair to one side and began rubbing her neck. "Is that better?" He said softly.

"Oh, yes." Jenna leaned back into Gan's warm hands.

Avon looked around, alerted by the sudden, complete lack of complaints. He blinked slowly, and then turned back to Blake. "Blake, I must confess my back is troubling me. Perhaps a massage would help."

Blake looked up at Avon, around at the others, and then back at Avon. He smiled. "Take a painkiller."

Avon sighed and returned to decoding.


	19. Relatively Speaking, Things Could be Worse

"Why are we here?" The big-nosed, elderly scientist demanded from the teleport platform. 

The large-eyed woman beside him glared at Blake. "It's obvious. These terrorists are holding us for ransom, Alva."

Blake said, "No, of course not. After your base is destroyed, we'll take you to a neutral planet."

"He's quite mad, Sido," Alva remarked. 

Avon entered the room.

"This was all your idea, wasn't it?" Sido slapped Avon across the face. "All because we wouldn't buy you that computronic pony!"

Avon lifted his hand to his reddening cheek. He sighed. "Blake, I'd like you to meet my parents."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was: Visitors


	20. Shriek

Avon looked at the tiny flying woman and batted at her in annoyance. "Will you kindly go find someone else to reward?"

She replied, in a tiny voice like chiming silver bells which made Avon's teeth itch, "Oh, but you were the one who rescued my people!" 

"It was a mistake," Avon grumbled and glanced over at Blake, who was watching Avon with raised eyebrows. Since no one but Avon could see the woman, this was understandable. Avon hissed at her,"Go away."

The woman followed his gaze and tittered. Avon seriously considered using a spray insecticide. "Oh, true love," the woman giggled. "I can fix that for you, dearie." She smirked and Avon lost his temper. He fired his gun and she dissolved in a shower of fizzy sparkles, but her tiny voice remained. "Oh, I'll fix you!"

***

Vila came onto the flight deck and looked at the sleek Burmese cat curled up in Blake's lap, purring. "Cute! Where did she come from?" He reached out to pet, yelped and drew back his hand just in time to avoid a pawful of razors.

Blake grinned and returned to petting the cat. "He, Vila."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just seen Shrek 2. :^)


	21. Blake Doesn't Trust Avon...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...to tie his own shoelaces.

"Avon," Blake said patiently, "it's for your own good. We can't have you stumbling over your shoelaces in every mine field we come across, now can we?"

Avon looked down at the white velcroed tennies on his feet and scowled. "But these have no style."

Jenna came back from the depths of the wardrobe room with a pair of glossy black thigh-high boots and Avon's face brightened.

Blake sighed. He just knew those boots were going to be trouble.


	22. To The Point

"See, Avon?" Vila said smugly, "I _told_ you looking pretty when you're in pain was a mistake. You gave the fen _ideas_."

"Shut up," Avon snarled. "And keep pulling those porcupine quills! Ah!! I'll never be able to sit again," he moaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A comment on the Adult B7 list about the writer finding it difficult to hurt Vila, because it made her uncomfortable, led to this.


	23. When Blake Gives Avon a Medallion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what happens when you give a mouse a cookie? Well...

If Blake gives Avon a Freedom Party medallion, then Avon will want Blake to put it on him.

And when Blake does, Avon will want to see himself wearing the medallion, reflected in Blake's eyes.

And when he sees the medallion on his chest, reflected in Blake's eyes, Avon will want a kiss.

And when Blake gives Avon a kiss, Avon will want a hug.

And when Blake gives Avon a hug, Avon will want Blake to make love to him.

And when Blake makes love to Avon, Avon will want Blake to sleep with him afterward.

And when Blake sleeps with Avon, Avon will want all the blankets.

And when Blake gives Avon all the blankets, Avon will want Blake to talk him to sleep with one of his Freedom Party speeches.

And when Blake talks Avon to sleep, Avon will dream of Blake giving him Liberator.

And when Blake gives Avon Liberator and goes away, Avon will want Blake back.

When Blake gives Avon a medallion...


	24. Circular Ending

Servalan pulled the Visual-Structural-Imager off Avon's head.

He blinked, dazed by the sudden passage from the dim redness of the tracking gallery to this brightly lit room.

"My patience is at an end! No more chances, Avon!"

Servalan snapped her fingers. Two guards marched him out of the room, and flung him to the ground along with the VSI.

Avon stared at the shattered VSI and the irrevocably closed door, then took a much-folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

_Dream-scape Inc. offers 10 million credits for rights to Blakes 7. Avon shouted, “You didn’t sack me! I quit!”_


	25. Failed Tech

The dishwasher repair-droid was made to look and act human, in order to appeal to Alpha snobbery. A randomizer program chose the features, body-types, personalities and 'intelligence'.

The eleventh droid  in the first year's production looked perfectly normal, but was kleptomaniac. After the third client's jewelry case had been broken into, the CEO ordered it destroyed.

The droid jimmied the compactor and fled, determined to pass for human. Unable to erase the tattooed ID on its wrist, it chose a name to match the initials. Using the side of a discarded toaster as a mirror Kerr Avon perfected his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: technological failure.


	26. Make The Man

Jenna looked at shirtless Blake, sweating in the mine, and knew why he wore such baggy tops. 

Jenna was again surprised when Vila took off his shirt, exposing a fit chest. Perhaps he did second-story work. The thought of Vila scaling a wall dressed in tight-fitting black distracted her from her own work.

She cried out as a guard's whip lashed around her blouse, cutting through the thin fabric. Vila was instantly at her side, helping her pull herself together. "You'll want this," he whispered, slipping her falsie back into position, and patting it fondly. "MMm. Nice one."

Jenna grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: Appearances are deceiving


	27. Higher Education

"I don't understand." 

"No, no, no." Egrorian rapped his knuckles on his protégé's head. "Think! You can do it."

"Ow. That hurts."

Egrorian grabbed an earlobe. "Say it again, and say it right this time."

"Ah dinna follow ye!" 

"Better, much better." Egrorian patted Jarriere on his cheek.

Jarriere scowled. "Ye've put a hole in ma ear!"

Egrorian sighed. "Honestly, I don't know what they're teaching boys at school these days. Put an earring in it!" He held out a tray of costume jewelry.

Jarriere proudly selected a pearl drop. He was now a graduate sycophant, eligible for high advancement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (challenge: start out with 'I don't understand'.)


	28. Verisimilitude

"Chess?" Vila asked as he set the board down on the teleport console.

Avon jerked his head, 'no'.

"You're still sulking because Blake wouldn't let you keep that paste diamond?"

"Paste?" Avon stared at Vila.

"You didn't know? It's all fake, like the clothes and the horrible commissary food."

"I'll grant you the food, but what's fake about the clothes?"

"Besides the styles? They all Velcro or snap or stretch or pull on."

"And the significance of that?"

"Quick changes. I found the captain's diary. They got tired of being in a traveling space opera and joined a Shakespearean troupe."


	29. Begins at Home

"Today's color is blue," Zen announced.

Avon had already decided that Zen hated him and was trying to drive him insane, so he ignored it, peeling off a yellow tag on the sleeve before he stomped out of the wardrobe room with the silver tunic.

Zen made a note that it was pointless to announce the Senior's Discount to the present customers- none of them would even admit to their present age. 

He wondered how long it would take his crew to return with new stock salvaged from Andromedan charity bins.

It was a rough neighborhood; they'd be a while.


	30. Like a Natural Woman

Jarvik grunted and threw the sack of flour over his shoulder. 

"No!" the instructor shouted. "You don't treat a baby like that! Cradle it! Protect it!"

"Woo..., Major, kids need toughening, not pampering!"

The Major looked him up and down. "You want tough? I'll give you tough! Bring out the Empathy Belly!"

"That's got tits! I'm not wearing that!" It took two mutoids to hold Jarvik down as they strapped him in and sealed up the thirty pound device.

Jarvik yelped as the simulated fetus kicked him.

The Major grinned and patted him on the arse. "You're glowing already, dear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt request: Some Jarvik, being sent for retraining to get in touch with his feminine side, please.


	31. The most boring thing I know...

Avon switched hands. His fingers were cramping again. Hoarse from shouting, weeping, and begging for mercy from an uncaring universe, he wearily tried again. "Connect me with your supervisor, please."

"Certainly, sir," replied the mechanical voice. "Please hold."

Barely audible strains of folk-punk-jazz leaked out of the earphones. After twenty minutes, it abruptly clicked and changed to a dial tone again.

Avon laid his head down against the Hell-ophone and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a meme where people asked for snippets I would never write. _A waiting for godot style fic where nothing happens, no sex no action no emo no angst as boring as you can make it so much so that even paint drying would be more interesting. Your choice of fandom. (Though why on earth I'd read I don't know. However having read your stuff I'm not sure there isn't a line you wouldn't cross except boredom.)_


	32. A Proper Reward

"Oh, Lord," Meegat cried. "I wish you would give me a proper reward!" She fell to her knees and looked up at Avon worshipfully. "In my living quarters." Avon hesitated.

"Avon," Gan said reproachfully. 

Avon glared and then he took Meegat by the hands."Yes, Meegat, I will give you a proper reward." 

The others teleported up, disgusted. Twelve hours later, Avon returned to _Liberator_. His face was drawn, with black circles around his eyes. His hands shook as he removed his bracelet. "I'm exhausted."

"You swine," Jenna said.

Avon looked at her, wild-eyed. "She had me re-wire the whole suite!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Home Improvement was the topic)


	33. Meal Deal

"I'm going to be sick."

"No you, won't," Avon whispered to Tarrant. "We had the bad luck to arrive during their Alloee festival. Betafarl ritual demands we show our courage by participating in the traditional meal."

"But Avon, it's... bloody worms." Tarrant shuddered. "Blind men's eyeballs. And...oh, no...boiled brains."

Avon picked up his fork and ate. Later that evening, he declined the honour of being made up as a clown, complete with pink wig.

It had been bad enough eating spaghetti, peeled baby onions and cauliflower. Even after they told him what it was. Maybe he should have told Tarrant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (topic- Strange alien customs and/or food.) I guess this was around Halloween. :^)


	34. Hands-On Science

Travis looked down at his left arm and scowled. The experimental medical therapy wasn't working out the way he'd intended at all.

"What's the matter?" the doctor asked after disconnecting his apparatus from Travis's arm. "It worked, didn't it? Your arm is re-grown. The nerve readings are well within accepted norms. You should be able to use the hand normally."

"Yes." Travis used his four orange fingers to squeeze the doctor's throat. "But I didn't want to be a bloody newt!" His tongue stretched out and licked his own eyeball. "Yarrgh!" Travis screamed and threw the doctor to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (topic was: Mad science)


	35. One Man's Meat

"Here you go, a genuine healthy breakfast!" Vila said as he poured skim milk over a bowl of what looked like wood shavings. "I thought with your vitamins and yoga that you'd like this."

Cally stared dubiously at it, but, being polite, ate the bowlful. When she finished she said, "Thank you, Vila. What type of meat was that?"

"Meat?" Vila was shocked. "That was shredded wheat! I'm a vegetarian."

Cally glared. "Oh, Vila, you idiot!" She ran out of the room. "My people have a saying, 'Eat meat, not wheat!"

Vila sighed. " Damn gluten intolerance."


	36. Button, Button, Who’s got the Button?

Avon lay unconscious in the medical unit, stripped to the waist. Cally conscientiously cleaned his shoulder wound, applied the healing pad and checked that the new skin was well on its way before giving in to temptation.

She’d seen human anatomy in first-aid texts, and done her fair share of patch-up work on  rebels, but circumstances were never right for her to satisfy her curiosity fully. 

Watching his face intently for any signs of returning consciousness, Cally undid the button on his trousers, and eased the zip down, then opened them. She smiled.

“An innie!” Cally pressed Avon’s belly button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was 'Button'


	37. It's Easy Being Green

"Honestly, Vila," Dayna grumbled and reached  for the potted plant standing in the shadows behnd a console in the subcontrol room, "just because you were talking about old time Earth holidays doesn't mean you can put a Chrissymess Bush in..." 

The bush moved and patted Dayna's thigh.

Dayna screamed, jumped straight up and landed running.

The Decima giggled and spoke alien gibberish into the teleport bracelet. Zen gibberished back, and then teleported the Decima into Avon's quarters.

His mother had been right, it paid off to be tri-lingual. He settled down contentedly to explore Orac's innards with a laser probe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was from a B7 generator-this is what the generator gave me- a Decima and Dayna in the sub control room with a teleport bracelet


	38. Log Cabin

Avon read the official biography of the President of the Federation  with growing disbelief.

"Poor but hard-working origins?" Avon snorted. "If you call giving orders hard work..."  
   
"A little child recommended a hairstyle to achieve voter popularity? —Actually, I might believe that."

"A self-taught genius?  --Genius?  Well, considering the thin line between insanity and genius..."

"Freed the masses from grade-constraints? Yes, at the correct political time, and in return for support from the non-aligned planets."

"Never told a lie?" Avon shook his head and waved the booklet at Blake. "I told you not to let Vila ghost your bio."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theme was Cabin


	39. Turnabout's Fair Play

“Might I humbly suggest, master, that is, if I’m not disturbing your undoubtedly extremely important activities, all of which would make any of my concerns look laughably petty by comparison—”

"Yes, Avon, what is it…"

"There have been rebel activities on this planet and it is possible that Blake is there, disguised as a bounty hunter…"

Tarrant sometimes felt guilty about using a modified version of the Ultra's technology to switch Avon's personality with Slave's, but the feeling never lasted long. He went over to the sullenly revolving computer and kicked it. "You heard him, get the ship moving."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (theme was to use as my first sentence one of a list of first sentences from another writer's B7 fic.)


	40. Prometheus

When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was the pain. The next thing was the circle of green faces staring down at him, pointing and giggling.

Avon shouted at them, waving his foot until the match fell out of his boot.

"Damn Blake for teaching you decimas about fire!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the same theme as Turnabout's Fair Play)


	41. Serving Humanity

A great cheer rang out from all three of them as the humans materialized inside the experiment chamber.

"You see," Blake said. "Epinaarlians don't hate humans."

"On the contrary," the chief octopoid said through a translator as it laid Gan down on an operating table. "We like humans."

Vila grinned. "Avon was wrong! Something for my memory books."

"It's just as well he didn't come, then," Cally said. "He hates being wrong."

Jenna said, "I see you all have scalpels, which of you is the doctor?"

"None of us. Lunch is served," cried the director of the Epinaarlian Epicurian Society.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same theme as Prometheus


	42. Promise On Paper

Gan entered Blake's cabin without knocking because his arms were full of Orac. "Here he is," Gan called, then stopped, shocked. "Blake!"

Blake looked up guiltily from his project.

"Is that what you need Orac for!" 

"It's not as bad as it seems. It's not as if I lied to anyone."

"You let us think you were an engineer!"

"I am an engineer!" Blake unfolded his project. "The pop-up Liberator will be the masterpiece of my Paper Engineering career." Blake looked at Gan in appeal.

"Oh, all right, I won't tell the others. Cross my heart and hope to die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theme was Our Little Secret


	43. Cold-hearted Bastard

"Dough."

"Right," Vila twiddled.

"Dough bedder."

Vila frowned. 

"High tink ..."

"So do I."

Avon sneered. "Yew don't tink. High tink. High tink tits berry likely the sealink rink has god bad."

Vila sighed and went back to work on the scanner. Avon was even more unbearable with a head-cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (theme was 'Cold')


	44. An Internal Domestic Matter

The Council had been deadlocked for days, with the Loyal Opposition creating a new filibustering record stalling until blackmail... reasoned argument... could sway the last of the votes they needed.

The senior member of the Opposition entered the chamber, giving the thumbs-up sign to their speaker, who closed the tattered copy of 'Lady Chatterly's Lover' he'd been 'reading into the record' and gave control of the podium over to him.

Triumphantly, Roj Blake called for the vote.

Five minutes later, it was decreed that 'Bubble and Squeak' should never  again be served in the college refectory on Pub Quiz Night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (theme was 'Domestic Matter')


	45. A Stitch in Time

"Turn edges toward each other and stitch together," Gan read from the monitor. 

Vila looked at the still form lying on the table under the bright lights of the med-unit. "I can't. You need an expert."

"We can't trust anyone in the Federation. You've got the best hands; if any of us can save him, it's you," Avon said urgently. "Try, Vila."

"I hadn't realized he meant so much to you," Vila said, touched.

"He and I..." Avon shook his head. "Please, Vila!"

***

 The operation was a complete success. Avon hugged the patient. "I love you," said little Ted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this was the page 23, line 5 challenge again- 1st sentence is from Good Housekeeping New Complete Guide to Needlecraft)


	46. My Hero

He left the alien, who was by now looking completely confused, and ushered Charlene into his Winnebago. "Oh, Vila, you're so wonderful," the long-legged redhead cried out. "How can I ever thank you!"

"It was almost nothing," Vila replied. "It was obvious he was ignorant of interspatial dynamics. Now, about that locked chest left to you by your uncle..."

"Can you open it?" Charlene's chest heaved with emotion as she brought out a small Herculaneum box.

Vila smiled. "Of course." He tapped once on each corner of the box, and the lid sprang open, revealing a fortune in diamonds. 

"I love you." Charlene grabbed Vila and pulled him by the shoulder towards the red fur covered bed.

"Ouch, not so hard."

The grip on his shoulder increased and became a shaking. "Your watch, Vila!" Tarrant said, and strode off the flight deck as Vila rubbed his eyes and sat up.

"Lousy sense of timing," Vila grumbled as he got up off the flight deck couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (theme was: take the nearest book and incorporate line 5, page 23 in a story- preferably as the first sentence. Someone else actually got this sentence, and put it up for adoption.)


	47. Food For Thought

Dayna smiled up at Tarrant afterward. "I could go for a taco."

Tarrant grinned. "Settle for a tongue sandwich?" He kissed her and then drew back, puzzled. "What's that?"

"Oh! I forgot!" Dayna pulled out her mouth-bomb filling and blew their way to freedom, disconcerting the avidly watching Ultras.

***

"Oh, hell." Tarrant turned Dayna away from the hopper, not wanting her to see Avon's boots disappearing down the grinder, fed to a giant brain. "Get Cally."

"But Avon!"

"Too late."

Dashing tears away, Dayna helped guide Cally to the machine that could restore her mind. Tarrant ran to the nearest reader and determined which of the two mind-cylinders contained Cally. Still weeping noisily, Dayna cradled Avon's cylinder to her bosom as they escaped the disintegrating Ultraworld with a dazed Cally in tow.

***

Orac, Dayna, and Cally designed a custom-made android capable of housing Avon's personality. 

Tarrant was disgruntled that Dayna and Cally spent so much time arguing over the appearance and functionality of parts he hadn't felt an android needed, and peeved that they refused to install an 'off switch'.

Vila pretended to be annoyed that they'd left in the sarcasm.

Avon the Paranoid Android merely smirked at them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theme was Food


	48. Mind's Eye

He enters Jenna, and her eyes go wide; at first in fear, but then it becomes ecstasy as he fills her. Her entire body goes still as he explores, moving inside her, discovering all her secrets. 

It has been so very long for him. He can’t make the moment last. He withdraws, more than satisfied. He’s thrilled after an eternity of loneliness, of meaningless, joyless, wandering to finally find love. He will do anything for Jenna.

Even though she will never love him. For her sake, he will help the one she does love.

“Welcome, Jenna Stannis. Welcome, Roj Blake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (theme was 'Eye of the Beholder')


	49. Neglected Love

"Make the trousers an inch tighter across the hip, Zen."

Jenna was the only one who realized Zen was present throughout the ship. At least she was the only one who talked to him by name while she was getting fitted for a new outfit.

"That will eliminate ease necessary for comfortable movement."

Jenna laughed. "I'm not looking for comfort, Zen. I want something to make Blake notice me. And make the heels higher on the boots, too, will you?" Jenna tossed the garments back into the replicator. 

"Confirmed." Zen wished he could do something to make Jenna notice him.


	50. Walk on the Wild Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Animal transformation.

Avon woke up snarling. Bad enough this world's Circe had turned him into a panther, but couldn't he even be left to nap in peace? Another nut landed on his head and he looked up into the branches at the gray squirrel bouncing from twig to twig. _I wouldn't push my luck if I were you, Vila._

_What are you going to do? You haven't got hands._ Vila held another nut teasingly.

_I've got these._ Avon showed his fangs.

_Um, here Cally, this is for you._ Vila gave the nut to the African gray parrot perched next to him. 

_Quit squabbling. We've got to find Blake,_ Jenna said irritably. It took Avon a moment to see the green and purple spotted chameleon clinging to the tree beside Vila.

_Yes, yes, fulfill the quest and get back to normal._ Avon's tail twitched irritably as he sat up. Brush crackled. Avon turned to see a heavily maned lion. _There you are._

_And there you are._ The lion seemed to smile as he moved closer.

 

A massive black paw swatted the lion in the head. _Blake_ the lion growled before closing its one yellow eye as it slumped, unconscious.

Blake pushed his shaggy bear body into the clearing. _Don't you know better than to talk to strangers, Avon?_


	51. No Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avon gets a kitten.

"This is a mouse." Avon held up the scrap of black and white fur he'd snipped from an inconspicuous seam in Cally's coat. He waved it back and forth.

Small bluish-green eyes followed his hand. A tiny bottom wriggled.

"Good. Now when I throw..." Avon let out a yelp and jerked his hand back, laden with clawing kitten. "Not ME, Hunter! The mouse!" Hastily he snatched up a larger scrap of fabric, tan suede from one of Vila's tunics, and waved it under the kitten's nose until it turned on the fresh toy. Avon tossed the suede to the deck and went off to the med-unit to disinfect the scratches.

When he returned a few minutes later, his cabin was suspiciously silent. No scratching in the litter box, no rustling papers on his desk, no clicks as components ricocheted off the walls. "Hunter?" Avon began looking in all the obvious places. No kitten.

"HUNTER!" Avon opened a can of fish and scraped it noisily into a plate. No kitten.

Avon's door announcer buzzed. He pushed the plate to one side and released the door lock, irritably. Vila stood there, shifting from foot to foot, holding his tool kit in his arms.

"You know where the lav is," Avon said. "Don't dawdle in the corridor." He pulled Vila into the room before Hunter could escape into the corridor. The last time the kitten got out, everyone got into the search. It became quite embarrassing.

"We've got to go, Avon!" Vila put his kit down.

Avon raised his eyebrows. "If you need someone to hold your hand in the loo, you're looking in the wrong direction."

"AVON! The mission! Remember?"

"Damn." Avon _had_ forgot. He took a last glance around the room. Well, he'd kitten-proofed the place. Hunter would be safe enough. "All right, just a moment." Avon went over to the desk and got his own tools.

"Want to put them in here?" Vila helpfully opened his tool kit.

"No, thanks, we might become separated." Avon glanced at Vila. "Come help me find my number 12 probe."

Vila came over and discovered the probe on the floor. Since Avon had got a kitten, his belongings had a tendency to stray. He handed it to Avon without comment, and they left.

Blake was annoyed at the delay. Avon snapped at him. Vila cringed, Gan tried to pacify them, and in general everyone was in a bad mood, which wasn't improved when Servalan showed up with her mutoids just as the rebels were completing their mission.

"Well, now, it seems I have you right where I want you," Servalan purred, tossing the long white feather boa over one shoulder as she gloated and smiled at Blake. Blake glared back at her.

Servalan let out a blood-curdling scream and jumped a foot in the air, clawing at the boa around her throat, finally flinging it off of her. Her mutoids were distracted. Avon and Blake shot all the mutoids. Gan caught a screeching furry missile tangled up with the boa, and Vila had the presence of mind to grab his kit, containing the secret item they'd gone after, and shout, "TELEPORT NOOOWWW!"

The four men appeared in the teleport, breathing heavily and wild-eyed. Gan dropped the boa. Hunter took off down the corridor, fur fluffed in a black and white blur. "HUNTER!" Avon shouted and ran after the cat, after pausing to drop his gun on the teleport console.

Everyone looked at each other. Vila said, "You know, I think I could get to like that cat."

(P.S. In case you wondered where Hunter was, he'd been in one of Avon's boots next to the bed, and then hid in Vila's kit during a few seconds it was open and unwatched.)


	52. Rube Goldberg Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a prize for guessing the answer to a riddle I offered to write a short fic based on the winner's prompt, which was:
> 
> Avon, Vila, Del 10, a mousetrap.

There was a loud snap, and Avon turned to see Vila jumping up and down while shaking his hand frantically. "What?" Avon took a step closer, and the small wooden object that had been clinging to Vila's fingers flew off, hitting Avon in the right eye.

"Ah!" Avon yelped, and his gun went off. The unaimed shot hit the chain holding up the old-fashioned chandelier, which crashed to the floor, but not before knocking over the decorative candle set on the mantelpiece. The candle lay on its side, flame flickering up to melt the last ice cube in Vila's drink which he'd set casually half over the edge of the shelf above when he'd discovered the mouse trap and decided to practice his sleight of hand. The weight of the cube on one side of the glass had been all that kept it from falling, so it fell, hitting against the mantel, and feeding the candle with alcohol into a sudden spurt of blue flame that reflected in the mirror across the room.

In his confused, vision-impaired state, Avon took that for the muzzle flash of a new type of weapon and fired at the mirror, which, being silvered, reflected back the laser-light of the weapon Dayna had given him as a birthday present and of course, since the trip to Del 10 was a present from the rest of the Scorpio's crew, Avon had taken it with him instead of his usual gun, and he hadn't thought about its limitations. 

The reflected shot hit one of the studs on Avon's chest and bounced off again, striking a stuffed warg-strangler head on the wall. The warg's fur immediately burst into flame, giving off clouds of noxious purple smoke.

The smoke alarm went off, and sprinklers popped out of the ceiling, flooding the whole room.

The door smashed open, and Tarrant looked in, a beautiful girl clinging to either arm. He took in the situation and sighed. "I can't take you two anywhere."


	53. Bottled Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One man's trash is another's treasure.

When rubbish is thrown out in space behind a drifting vehicle, it tends to stay with the vehicle. After rescuing Blake and Jenna from suffocation aboard the small alien vessel by capturing it in the hold of the _Liberator_ , Avon happened to look down at just the right instant to catch a gleam of light off something small and brightly coloured.

It was a bottle, made of baked clay, inlaid with many coloured pieces of glass and stoppered with a cork covered with red wax impressed with an intricate bit of calligraphy. It was intriguing, to say the least. It was also alien and potentially hazardous.

When Blake went down to the planet, Avon became bored. Trapped by the web Avon had nothing to do, so he analyzed the bottle and its contents as best he could without actually opening it. It appeared to be empty, and yet it weighed more than he thought it should. If, as seemed logical, it had come from the alien ship, it was unlikely to contain harmful microorganisms. 

After thinking it over, he shrugged and extracted the cork. Dense purple smoke poured out of the bottle. Avon leaped back, dropping it and regretting his curiosity.

The purple smoke solidified into a pillar which thickened even more, shifting and changing until a humanoid alien so huge his turban-clad head brushed the ceiling glared down at Avon. "You have released me, mortal, from my thousand year imprisonment! In gratitude, I grant you time to make your peace with your god before I slay you!" With a theatrical wheep it drew a gleaming scimitar out of nowhere and whirled it overhead.

"Ah. That's not exactly what I'd call gratitude." Avon backed up, but the creature was between him and the exit. 

"It's been a long time since I've killed anything." The thing grinned at him. "Would you prefer me to dissolve your bones inside your hide?"

"Not as such; no."

"Then cleanse your soul and prepare to die!"

"I don't have a god. Would you kill me with a tarnished soul?"

"If you are an unbeliever, then that is how you shall perish." The sword burst into flames and angled towards Avon.

"Wait! If you're not giving me time to cleanse my soul, at least you can ease my curiosity."

The sword halted. "That is reasonable. Ask one question mortal, but do not take too long, my hunger for slaughter grows."

"How could you have fit in that bottle? Even transmuted into gas, the sheer volume of your molecules couldn't possibly have been enclosed in that."

"It is magic, mortal! Millennia agone, the great Sulieman bin Dauod, upon whose name be peace, didst order all the rebellious djinn into bottles such as that, and sealed them with his sigil, that we durst not pass!"

"That sounds very pretty, but it is totally meaningless."

"Verily, there is an entire universe inside that bottle! All that I might desire is there for the mere wish, all save freedom, and mortals to slay!"

Avon laughed. "Prove it."

The djinn drew himself up, face reddening with rage. "Thou doubt my word?"

"I do."

"Then I shall prove it!" The djinn glared at Avon.

Avon had time for one yelp of surprise before he felt himself changed into a stream of silver smoke and sucked down into the bottle. There was a *pop* as the djinn put the cork back in and set the bottle down on Avon's desk before going off to kill troopers and ravish the obviously djinn female, Servalan, that he'd glimpsed in Avon's thoughts.

Avon landed on his back on a soft bed and stared around in surprise. He was back in his flat on Earth, surrounded by all the small luxuries he'd once owned. 

"Chesku granted the annulment! Oh, Avon, we can be together, always!" Anna threw herself into Avon's arms.

***

Avon was quite annoyed when Blake released him from the bottle. 


	54. Hardly a Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarrant's moonstruck.

"I still say there must have been a reason the Federation abandoned this base," Vila said as he halfheartedly pushed a crate into place on a decrepit loader. 

"It's not conveniently located," Soolin said as she powered up the loader, wincing at the flakes of rust coming off on her hands. "When the nearest populated world is Gauda Prime, who is there for the troopers to kill?" 

"Now, there's a cheering thought," Vila muttered as he trudged back for another crate of emergency rations.

Dayna came out of the main building in time to overhear Vila. "I'm glad someone's cheerful. Tarrant is a grouch, and Blake and Avon are not talking to each other so loud it makes my head hurt when I go in to change their bandages. At least Deva and Klyn have recovered enough to get to the bathroom on their own. Oh, that reminds me, Vila, you need to fix the lav in the med unit."

"Why me?"

"Because the loader won't start for you, and I'm off to kill something for our dinner." Dayna hefted the bow and arrows she'd made since arriving at Blake's Other Base (Vila renamed the planet 'Bob') along with the few survivors of the massacre. "Of course, you could take over for Tarrant. He's on bedpan duty in between trying to fix that clapped out ship we stole."

"On second thought, I'll go fix the lav." 

Dayna was right about Tarrant, Vila decided after he fixed the lav. Typical Alphas, none of them thought to lift the lid and check that the flush chain was attached. Two seconds work in clean water, and he's the hero of the day. But when he reported mission accomplished to Tarrant, his 'reward' was a ridiculously toothy sneer. No one else noticed, the invalids being fully occupied with glaring wistfully (Blake and Avon) or trying to ignore the ongoing lover's spat (Deva and Klyn.)

He followed Tarrant back to the Ship of Dreams (Hopeless ones, really, it made _Scorpio_ look like a yacht). "What do you want, Vila!" Tarrant snapped so sharply that Vila stumbled back.

"I just wondered if... well... if there was anything I could do to... erm... make you feel better." As soon as he said it, Vila realized just how Tarrant would take it.

Tarrant growled. Really growled. Vila stumbled backward even further, hands raised defensively. "I didn't mean it like that! I'm not! And I know you're not! And you and Dayna..." Oh, now, that was a brilliant thing to say, considering how furious Dayna had been with Tarrant after the 'incident' on Virrn.

Tarrant shook himself, all over, like a dog, and held up his own hands. "Sorry. I know you didn't mean it. It's just... I'm a little stressed."

Vila stared at Tarrant's hands. "You must be. I didn't know it was true."

Tarrant looked down at the fur covering his palms. "What?"

"You know... the old ma'ms were always saying, 'play with yourself and your hands'll get all hairy, and you'll go blind, too.' I never could figure out where the going blind came into it."

"I never had to... you know." Tarrant scratched at his hands. "There were always girls. And later, women."

"Lucky bastard," Vila said. "But it's not true. It never happened to m... my friends in the delta barracks. We all looked the other way, but you couldn't not hear."

"Then what is it?" Tarrant scratched more vigorously. "Ow."

"Your hands hurt?"

"No. I just bit my tongue."

Vila looked at Tarrant's teeth which were whiter, longer, and pointier than he remembered. "Oh. Erm... maybe we'd better ask Orac about you."

"Fascinating," Orac said after Vila plugged Tarrant into the medical unit's sensors. All four of the full-time occupants of medical beds were watching, mainly because they were so bored they'd been counting the rivets in the ceiling. 

"Fascinating? Is that it?" Tarrant growled and leaned towards Orac, stretching the bonds holding him to the medical bed. The un-stretchable bonds. Vila was becoming a little unnerved by the combination of Tarrant's teeth and temper. "What's happening to me!"

"It appears to be a partially regressive metamorphosis, triggered by the photonic rays emitted by the septimal satellites orbiting Bob, further complicated by pineal gland activation triggering mutation and pseudo-post-ontogeneological recapitulation of phylogeny."

Tarrant blinked, dazed by the bombardment of syllables.

"Could you put that in delta?" Vila asked.

"Very well, Tarrant is a werewolf."

"I am not!" Tarrant howled before snapping the bonds, leaping from the bed and running out of the room on all fours.

Avon and Blake got out of bed, and fell, miraculously grabbing onto each other even though their beds were several feet apart. Deva and Klyn pulled the covers over their heads. Vila ran to lock the door, and hit the comm button. "SOOLIN! DAYNA! Look out for Tarrant, he's a wolf!"

"Tell me something I don't already know, " Soolin's irritated reply came back. "Are you going to get back to work here, or not?"

"NOT! We're holed up in the med unit, where it's safe."

Dayna's voice was heard next, "Oh, you've got to be kidding. Vila, you'll do anything to get out of work."

"No, no, really, I mean it!" Then Vila heard a growl followed by a piercing feminine scream.

"GET YOUR NOSE OUT OF MY CROTCH!" Dayna shouted. Then there was a yelp. "Vila," Dayna said, "so help me, if you put Tarrant up to that I am going to KILL YOU!"

Vila shouted, "Are you all right?"

"The day will never come that I can't take care of Tarrant sniffing around me!" There was a pause. "But he is awfully hairy. And I didn't think anyone could run that fast on all fours."

"He's a werewolf! Dayna, you've got to shoot him with silver bullets!"

"Vila!" Blake was clinging to Avon, but between them they managed to stay on their feet. "We're not shooting Tarrant!"

"Besides," Avon said, "where would we get the silver?"

Blake gave Avon a look. "No one gets shot today."

Avon inclined his head in assent. "Tarrant seemed more confused than violent. Perhaps..."

At that moment the med-unit door opened and Soolin walked in, dragging Tarrant by the scruff. "What have you done to Tarrant? He just ripped apart a crate of organic fertilizer and rolled in it!"

"We noticed," Avon said, wrinkling his nose. Deva and Klyn burrowed further under the covers.

Tarrant whined and moved close enough to chew on Avon's boots. "Orac!" Avon snapped, "you'd better come up with a cure for Tarrant! NOW!"

"I love it when you're domineering," Blake said, grinning.

Avon smiled at Blake. Behind their backs, Vila made gagging gestures. Orac whined, "Must I? I've never had a pet before."

Soolin cleared her throat. "Orac, if you ever hope to get off Bob and back in space you'll fix Tarrant."

Tarrant whimpered and cringed.

"Not that way," Soolin said and rubbed him behind the ears until Tarrant's left leg thumped the floor.

"Once away from the influence of Bob's moons, Tarrant would revert to human," Orac said.

"Yes, but without human Tarrant, we'll never get that heap of junk flying," Soolin said. 

"Catch-22," Deva said, poking his head out from under the covers.

"Oh, you read that book, too?" Klyn asked.

"Of course, it's on the proscribed list, which makes it required reading for rebels. Mind you, I've never understood quite how 'Calvin and Hobbes' qualified."

"It was the tiger," Klyn said.

"No, it was the transmogrifier," Avon put in.

Blake shook his head. "Nonsense, it was the essence of the eternal rebel in Calvin."

Avon looked at Blake. "I love it when you pontificate. You don't do it often enough."

Orac screamed. "ENOUGH! I can't take the sentimental illogic any longer! Give Tarrant tinted contact lenses and the moon radiation will no longer affect him!"

"Thank you, Orac," Soolin said just before Tarrant broke away from her and ran out of the room.

"Don't look at me," Vila said, "I'm not a Tarrant- catcher! He's probably gone looking for Dayna, anyway."

"True." Soolin went over to the med unit machinery and began making contact lenses. "Dark brown should do."

Two hours later, Dayna returned to the base, T. Rex steaks flung over her shoulder and Tarrant frisking at her heels. "Do we have to turn him back? I didn't know he could track!"

"I know there's a special bond between a girl and her dog," Blake said, "But who else is going to clean the glycolene ballast chambers?"

"Good point," Vila said. He blinked big blue eyes at her. "Look what Soolin made for me!"

Dayna looked Vila up and down, then shook her head. "Down, boy."

Tarrant sat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: When the crew teleport down to a world with seven large moons of high albedo, one of them (your choice) is disconcerted to find that they're growing more hair on their body, including their palms, and that their teeth are lengthening. (Tarrant won the toss)


	55. Furry Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vila lets a 'rat' out of a box. Should he regret that?

Vila didn't like large furry aliens, but small furry animals with big brown eyes that sat up and put a tiny pink hand with really cute pink toes out of its cage when he passed it were something else. He had fellow feeling for even an imprisoned rat and this one seemed to be begging for its freedom.

It was the work of an instant to unlock the cage—and why put a lock on a cage-- who was going to steal a tailless, fluffy, short-nosed rat? Must be some sort of mutant the lab had created. "Go on, run off now," Vila told the creature, but it looked at him with those big brown eyes and put one tiny pink hand on his sleeve. "MMM... well... all right, but if you bite me, that's the end of it, I'll leave you to fend for yourself." He picked it up, gingerly. His previous experience of rodents had involved sharp teeth and nasty squeals and beady eyes glowing in the dark. This animal made a soft noise and tickled the palm of his hand with its whiskers before he slid it into a pocket.

Then the mission got complicated and far too exciting and he was back on _Liberator_ and in his cabin before he remembered the mutant rat. He picked it out of his pocket and put it on his bed. "Well, go on, there's always rats on a ship. What's one more. Find a friend, why don't you?" He went to take a shower, but when he returned he found the mutant rat had made a nest out of his pillow and was sleeping with one pink paw over its little face. Vila sighed. "All right, I suppose you feel you're too good to associate with the rest of the rats. You're an Alpha rat, that's what you are." He grinned and picked up the chewed up pillow, and set it on the floor along with the rat. "I think I'll call you ...Kerry." He put a dish with water and another dish with some nibbles he had around the room down next to it, and then he went to sleep on his pillowless bed.

The com system woke Vila far too early. He staggered over to it, remembering just in time not to step on Kerry who was sitting in the dish of nibbles, stuffing his face comically full. "What?" Vila leaned with eyes closed against the com. 

"Vila, are you all right?" Cally's voice sounded urgent.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You woke me up for that?"

"Avon's sick. The two of you were in the same lab. I was afraid you might have picked up whatever he did."

"Sick? Well, the medical unit will take care of it, won't it?" There was silence at the other end of the com. "Won't it?"

"No. We're going to have to go back and break in to get the antidote."

"But... they'll be on full alert!"

"We haven't any choice. Orac found out they're using animals to spread a plague."

Vila looked with horror at Kerry.

"Were they using rats?"

"Yes."

Vila gingerly picked up the dish and carried Kerry to the lab. "It's not your fault, I know." He put the dish down on the table. "I'm sorry. Can you make it quick?"

"Vila!" Cally ran over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "You're a genius! How did you know the hamster was carrying the antibodies?" She gently picked up Kerry and took a small sample of blood, before putting it back on the dish. "I'll just run this through the sampler and it will create enough to save Avon."

Vila looked down at Kerry, and then over at Avon who was watching him from feverish eyes. Vila smiled. "Well, everyone knows a Kerr's best friend is his hamster."


	56. Kerrific

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kerr Avon is a Mary Sue!  
> (I was given 3 prompts for stories I wouldn't write- I chose this.)

Kerr Avon listened politely to Blake's plans for taking over the London, and smiled, showing his perfect, brilliant teeth. "You haven't got the timing right, Blake. You might wind up with some poor soul stuck in the access way, and what would happen if the ship was holed by a meteorite?" Avon whipped out his notepad and graphite writing stick and came up with a complete plan, taking into account all the personalities involved. "Now Vila is liable to panic under stress, but he's very good at a line of patter, so he can distract the guards. Raiker will be out for revenge against Jenna, so she can lure him in. Once Gan grabs Raiker, we can use his hand-print to override the doors."

Blake's mouth was open in awe as Avon's smoothly seductive voice continued. Avon would take care of everything. All Blake had to do was admire him, and follow his orders slavishly.

Avon's anthracite eyes glittered as he became excited, and his raven-wing hair cast back blue highlights that dazzled Blake. How could any one man be so wonderful, so clever and insightful, and talented, and drop-dead gorgeous to boot?

Everything went just as Avon said, and they captured the London without loss of life and immediately changed course as Avon advised.

A month later Travis, commanding the alien ship (which he'd named the Revenge) that he'd found floating in space when he went after the London, blew London and all of the escaped convicts to atoms.


	57. After 'Blake'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happened after the credits rolled on 'Blake'

Blake opens his eyes, sits up, wipes off the 'blood' & says 'well, was the camera angle right *this* time?'

Deva checks the tape & nods. The _Scorpio_ crew air the propaganda tape (arguing over who died the best) while Gan makes popcorn. Deeta is snuggling up to Klyn, who is petting Krantor's white cat, Fuzzybritches. Lauren and Hal have cooked a huge pot of Firehouse Chili and tested it out on Og and Justin who then drank all the gingerbeer Dr. Plaxton had been brewing in her bathtub. Jenna, Nova, Ensor Jr., Dr. Maryatt, Farren, Renor, Hanna, Mikey, Kasabi, and Dr. Bellfriar take off their Federation uniforms and decorate the base with streamers and disco balls. Ensor, Sr. is discussing philosophy with Zen, Slave and Orac. Nebrox and Vena are playing team-chess against Belkov and Gambit. Keiller and Zeeona are on the galactic-net, talking to Cally who is on Auron, being hailed as a heroine by her entire planet. Avon's brother and Blake's siblings are having a friendly 'how my big brother used to tease me' competition.

Jarvik, Cancer (the guy who pretended to be Cancer), Dorian, Egrorian and Pinder sent their regrets, but they were attending the Macho-Men's Ball hosted on Kairos by Brian the Spider.

Unfortunately, one of Blake's folk, the technician who tussled with Tarrant & got 'shot' can't attend the party. He broke his leg when he fell.


End file.
